


Words

by DameRuth



Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: The end of the alleyway conversation inGridlock, run though my own perceptual filters.[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2007.04.19.]
Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805668
Kudos: 7





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been fascinated by the power of words, so the Doc's little ramble about them summarizes my feelings on the matter, too.
> 
> * * *

Martha studied the Doctor. He’d finally fallen silent, and sat leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees, staring sightlessly — if thoughtfully — at the pavement between his toes.  
  
Once he’d started talking, about his home and his people, it had been like a dam bursting, the words almost tumbling over each other. But he hadn’t been incoherent, not at all — he’d woven his descriptions so skillfully, Martha almost felt like she’d seen the orange skies and vast mountain ranges of his homeworld for herself.  
  
And his emotions . . . She’d seen that combination of love and pain before -- on the faces of patients' family members, reminiscing about an injured or lost loved one at the hospital. While the Doctor hadn’t cried as he spoke, his voice had been rough in places, his eyes bright with unshed moisture. Martha’d been teary-eyed herself, more than once.  
  
It all explained _so much_ about this mysterious stranger who’d picked her up and carried her across time and space. Martha’s bum had long since gone numb, sitting on the damp, chill, uncomfortable chair she’d scavenged, but she wouldn’t have moved for the world.  
  
“Do you know,” the Doctor began again, abruptly, still focused on the pavement, “I haven’t told this to anyone, not in detail — not even Rose. I couldn’t bear to, or thought I couldn’t. And . . . you’re the first one who asked, really asked, and wouldn’t let me fob them off.”  
  
He rubbed his hands over his face. “Rose wondered, I saw it in her face, but she never pressed me. I wonder why? She knew so little about me, really — why did she ever decide to stay with me?” His tone of voice was surprised, even a little awed, as if he’d never considered that before.  
  
Remembering his audience, then, the Doctor shot a glance at Martha. He gave her a wan little smile, which made his handsome face look even younger than usual — but his eyes were dark and old.  
  
_Oh, I think I know why,_ Martha thought, with a slight shiver running down her spine.  
  
He was mystery, and adventure and . . . _magic_ , all wrapped up in a surprisingly foxy (if skinny) package. And he was so deeply and painfully _alone_ . . .  
  
The Doctor looked down at the pavement again. “I _should_ have told her,” he said, more decisively, and then he faltered. “So much I should have told her . . .”  
  
He reached up to wipe at his eyes, sniffed, and then huffed out a laugh Martha knew was meant as a mood-breaker for her benefit, not an expression of real amusement.  
  
“Words, words, words,” he told the pavement. “Words everywhere, bombarding us. Talk is cheap, it’s all hot air, none of it seems to matter — but it really does. Words are everything, words are _important_ , they can heal, they can kill, they can start wars, they can end wars, they’re True Names, and poems, and mightier than swords — any day. But they don’t have any power at all if they’re left . . . unspoken.”  
  
The Doctor ground to a halt, and sighed. He rubbed his hands over his face again, and when he dropped them he looked at Martha with another of his small, sad smiles — but this time, he really _looked_ at her, she felt, for the first time since the Moon.  
  
“And that, Martha Jones, is why I can’t take you to see my homeworld,” he said, in a faint attempt at levity.  
  
“But you did, in a way,” Martha told him, serious. “I saw it, through your words,” she added, tapping her temple, and giving him the best smile she could manage back. _Now_ she knew how unknowingly cruel her request had been, and why he’d reacted the way he had. She felt bad in hindsight, but there’d been no possible way she could have known.  
  
The look on his face, then — pain and pleasure . . . and affection. Thanks and appreciation, the full attention of those dark, dark eyes . . .  
  
_Rose probably never knew what hit her,_ Martha thought, dazed. _It’s like a two-by-four out of nowhere . . . And I bet he doesn’t have a clue he’s doing it, either._  
  
They sat that way for a heartbeat, looking at each other, and then . . .  
  
“Right!” the Doctor spun into action with dizzying speed, zero to sixty in a millisecond. He bounced up from his chair, and gave Martha a dazzling, toothy grin. “I don’t know about you, but my backside’s half frozen off, and the TARDIS is much nicer than this old alleyway, so if you _aren’t_ staying here . . .?” He offered her his arm, as he had in Elizabethan England.  
  
Martha grinned back, and rose to take his arm, allowing him to lead her off in the direction of his ship. She still had more questions, of course, but this was a start — and her backside _was_ freezing. Now that the Doctor had opened up to her once, she had a feeling it would be easier, in the future, to get answers out of him.  
  
She looked up at him, and he smiled back at her sidelong, some of his earlier distance back in place, but with a new glimmer of genuine warmth. Now that she knew to look for it, though, she could see the weight of sorrow he still carried.  
  
_When the time’s right, I’ll have to ask him about Rose,_ she thought. _There’s more there than he’s letting on, and it’ll do him good to talk . . ._  
  
For now though, it was enough.  
  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=11692>


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